


What does a king need?

by daughterofspring



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Light Dom/sub, king! halfdan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 08:06:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18191957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofspring/pseuds/daughterofspring
Summary: !King Halfdan spending a night with his favorite Iberian girl. DOM/SUB tones.





	What does a king need?

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some pure smut with a kicker of fluff.  
> I have had a hard time musing to write the actual story, so i made a slight au.  
> ENJOY!

**"I hate you."**

she murmured softly in his ears, he ignored her spiteful words and kept his large hands full of sun-kissed flesh, soft and perked and far too soft for roughness.

She writhed forward in his lap, filling his face with her deliciously round breasts. His greedy mouth sought them out, but she pulled them back and slapped him hard across his mouth. It was the only power he conceded to, very small liberties he awarded her for absolute reverence. A great, animalistic fire danced in her large, hazel gaze and she bit down on her swollen bottom lip to stifle the pleasure filled moan seeking to bring ruin to her momentary reign over him.

His brilliant little slave was crumbling quickly into a haze of lustful bliss, succumbing to her own frenzy. Always the vixen behind closed doors, and strategic to a certain point, until he allowed her too much control. She would nibble, claw, slap and degrade him with venomous words he knew were far from spontaneously conjured up. It would fill her body to the brim of pleasure, to cause him brief jolts of erotic torment. This here was his most treasured detail of their intense meetings of skin. The point where he asserted his position of authority over her. She was riding him, pushing herself to the brink of release but losing her composure with every passing second. Power was certainly not for everyone. The brief, fleeting moments he allowed her were intoxicating enough and soon, she would long for his rough hands dominating every curve of flesh on her body. To be governed and ordered, and treated like the exquisite submissive she truly was and he, a man she looked upon with both worship and trepidation when her judgment had been inferior and impressionable. She was a green student awaiting the skillful lessons one could teach.

It had taken one release.

One moment of exploding stars behind her eyes that traveled down, curling her toes to begin a dark, deep descent into bittersweet credence. Large, slender fingers twisted into her thick hair, elegant, ruthless hands responsible for so much death, so much delicious, agonizing luxury. His grip was gentle at first, and if an outsider were to observe they would mistake it for a deep and loving embrace.

Their relationship cut deeper into the realms of devotion, for it was a connection between king and paramour, master and slave, warrior and prey. His hold on her soft tendrils sped past gentle when he abruptly yanked at the roots. Her eyes fluttered open, chestnut and Moss burned into his darkened eyes barring a string of contempt, adoration, and insatiable devour. How she longed to break the spell of urgency for his deliberate touch, but she knew full well, the need for her compliance was just as critical to his own survival. On several occasions, the lustful, Iberian captive had endeavored to catch the eye of others.

Conveniently, for the king, every pathetic excuse for competition would somehow go missing from the roster, their flesh left for the Kraken's beneath the waves. What had truly rattled her conscious was, finding the intense outbursts of jealousy rousing. The remorse for her actions was budding early this time, and her pace atop him slowed, she was missing home. The home his people ravaged and burned to the ground, the ashes of her people still fresh in her lungs. He could feel the change in her before it happened as if the thick, heated air between them had frozen in time. This happened less and less now, a bought of defiance born of sudden mindfulness.

Halfdan had become harmonized to her emotions, this attention to every detail had proven crucial to his reign over this exotic darling of his. His hold failed to cease, a free hand freed the curve of her waist and grabbed her jaw between thumb and middle finger. She glowered, challenging his order longer this time, the rolling of her hips ceased. **_“I never told you to stop, did I?”_**  He growled, his hard cock still throbbing inside of her tight, slick walls. No reply sounded from her luscious lips, his grip loosened in her hair and released her mouth from its vice. With great arrogance, he leaned back in the chair, completely sure that his breathing trophy would obey.

An amoral grin flashed over her lovely, flushed features and she wanted to push him to the edge. Casually, and carefully not to show him how she suddenly felt empty, she stood back a few steps, away from the wrath of his warrior reflexes. The purpose of her little game had yet to enter his mind, frustration clouded his judgment for the time being.

Keen, avid eyes still took in the astounding form of her powerful keeper. She would remember to pay tribute to his gods, for giving him breath and war for carving out the hard lines molded by it. Scars marked his skin, each one a victory over a lesser man that could not kill him, the rich, ashen ink served to make those stories all the more clear. She tried not to lick her lips, watching the discontent furrow his brow and glistening, pale muscles tense. His most impressive muscle, still stood full and more frustrated than any other part of him at the loss of its tight sheath. There was a lustful creature inside of Neves, conflicting, chewing away at the memories of her former life, her former dedication to such a judgmental God. She used to weep for her morality after his every departure, then crave his experienced, commanding presence five minutes later. Her bright eyes surveyed him carefully, anticipating an outburst of rage that would be translated into a merciless lesson in respect and sparks of frenzy coursed through the young woman.

**_“you should marry that woman, she is a true Dane...that is what you want, isn't it?”_ **

In one blurred second of Mania, he had stood and gripped onto what was his. One hand filled itself with a rough grip of hair, the other grabbed her chin like before and the look in his eye spoke volumes to how he digested her words. This burst of anger had brought on a new feeling in her core when he rounded on her, standing over a full foot taller than his younger consort. She knew this fun little game was over, lucky to have even breached the surface under his skin. How foolish for a merchants daughter to believe she had any semblance of control over such a renowned leader. He was far too lenient today, must have drawn blood at least once if he appeared to be this tolerant of her cheekiness. He was backing them up slowly, surely until her back came in contact with a cold, steel wall. Growling at her insolence.

 ** _“Don’t take advantage of my patience, little one. I’ve cut down men three times your size for ten times less.”_** His mouth leaned forward, his searing words causing a shudder of pleasure through her body.

Her dire need for him did not lessen, how could it ever. The moment the Norsemen raided the shore of her homeland she had been destined to stand beside and lay beneath the leader that spared her life. ** _“and yet, I asked you still.”_ **She insisted.

The submission giving way for the fire he so loved. Though Neves was not without fear, she would be the truest of fools to underestimate Halfdan the Black. Her jaw lifted in his grip, eyes steady and fixed on his own, glassed with the ire of interrupted lust mingled with her call to emote something from him. Whatever it was, made of a year wrapped in one another had gone unspoken. There was little a man, woman nor, child alive under the king and his rule that treated this woman as most would treat a slave. It had been spurred, her reaction brought about out of complete covetous to steal the king from the feast. How pretty the Earls daughter had been, blue-eyed and yellow-haired and perfectly poised-- an unmarried king was a prize unlike any other.

His hand at her chin opened slightly to accommodate the slow, maddening descent down her throat, holding his hand over her larynx. She felt a slight pressure against it, his stormy eyes were focused on her reaction as a means to ignore all more that stirred within him. ** _“Neves--”_** her name on his lips was much like embers to flame; low, rasped and edged with need? **_“ A king needs a queen, does he not?”_**

the chamber wall hit her back, and with the abrupt swiftness the warrior was known for, his arm moved to lift his Iberian bounty onto his waiting cock, sheathing himself with a deprived grunt. Neves cooed out like a wounded pup, imploring him to leave her be and yet move from his stilled position within her aching core. With reluctance, she began nodding her head as fluttering golden, wistful eyes gleaming with hurt. It was such a thing to forget when he was sheathed within, any amount of anger shattering the moment he began to thrust but she held what little she could with resolve.

 ** _“I hate you.”_** she cracked.

**_“You lie, little one.”_ **

His pace found more urgency now, eyes of sin-darkened by desire narrowing on her as calloused fingertips released her throat to anchor itself to the wall. His forehead pressed to her own, glistening with build-up of exertion.

 ** _“I hate you.”_** it was but a whisper of the former, her lips falling open with the string of blissful moans.

 ** _“Liar!”_** he growled, the rut of his hips becoming unhinged.

The game upturned and she completely unaware. Delicate hands wrapped around his broadened shoulders, tugging at the strands of wild golden hair. Neves gaze half-lidded and fixed upon the manner his inked face contorted in his violently lustful haze. Oh, how she wished to deny him the satisfaction, but the slave was upon the brink. Waited upon the shores with no need to halt all there was within her.

 ** _“I love you!”_ **she cried.

The tightness of her core constricted around his pounding cock. the three words, echoed in the space between them, swallowed by his own mouth, by the feel of his release coating her walls and the growl of ecstasy which then consumed him. For the longest while, it was only the melody of panted breaths between them. Stilled in the waning light of candle and hearth. And then the bustle of the keep outside the doors which closed king and his lover within their own world.

 _ **“and I love you.”** _rare was his softness, reserved for few and Neves had been the only one in this world to see the whole of it.

It may have been, that Halfdan loved the light of her eyes, like gold and the way they lifted with her lips in a joyful smile. He was soon to follow, but he had always had the unholiest of grins, wicked and taunting. _**“ we cannot let them wait too long, my queen.”**_


End file.
